


The Unicorn Incident

by who_la_hoop



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 17-year-old boys, Community: hp_springsmut, First Time, Forced Bonding, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-03
Updated: 2008-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:14:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_la_hoop/pseuds/who_la_hoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up is hard to do, especially in the shadow of your father's reputation. Scorpius Malfoy has a tough time keeping his resolution to be the best Slytherin he can be when schoolboy games, unicorns, incompetent friends and a beloved enemy all conspire to teach him something different – and rather wonderful – about himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unicorn Incident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xingou](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=xingou).



> Written for hp_springsmut 2008 for Xingou. From Xingou's list of kinks and prompts I took Slytherin!Albus, school-aged chan, UST, first time, needy sex, biting and a potion gone wrong/forced bonding. My fabulous betas were Lesyeuxverts00, Seethingheathen and Leela_Cat.

**1.** _''Pick your battles with care, Scorpius,'' his father said, expression calm but strict. Scorpius’ tears appeared to – once again - have no effect on him, and Scorpius tried to understand what he meant through the haze of his temper tantrum. ''A Slytherin never makes a scene over something as petty as a sweet. Do you remember what I said before?''_

_Scorpius thought hard, wiping away the tears – half anger, half feigned – and tried to calm himself. ''When you say no, I should ask Mother instead?''_

_His father laughed. ''Excellent. Not quite what I said, but I see you have learned an important lesson. Subtle means always work better than a full-frontal attack.''_

_Scorpius didn’t really understand what Father meant, but he was already working on getting fresh tears to spring to his eyes. They affected Mother in quite a different way to Father. He could already taste the sweets on his tongue._

 

Scorpius tried not to look interested as the youngest male Potter – Albus Severus apparently (the old-fashioned, dignified name sounding pretty stupid when applied to someone with such messy hair) – picked up the Sorting Hat, his face screwed up and tense, and placed it on his head. The kid looked remarkably like his famous father, and was - going by all available evidence – no doubt going to be just as irritating. Although Scorpius had already reserved a particular place in his list of new enemies for the red-haired James, whose Weasley blood and bad manners were already obvious from the way he kept glaring in Scorpius' direction, totally without reason.

Scorpius had spent many hours that summer poring over the books of wizarding heritage and blood-lines to decide which students would be worthy of his friendship. His father had, surprisingly, been a little disapproving of this, but Scorpius was a Malfoy, was he not? He could feel the weight of the generations of pure-bloods behind him, ready to judge him and his conduct. The name of Malfoy had been shamed, tarnished in the last war, and Scorpius was more than aware that it was up to him - the sole heir of the Malfoy line - to make things right. He just wasn’t sure how, as yet.

Scorpius leant forward slightly. The kid looked like he was going to wet himself. Scorpius smirked. What was he so terrified about? Any son of Potter, who was, after all, the Gryffindor poster child, would _obviously_ be sorted with his fellow lions. Just as he, Scorpius, had been sorted into Slytherin just a few minutes ago, following in the footsteps of his father and his father’s father.

''SLYTHERIN!'' the Hat all but screamed.

There was a shocked silence and then the entire school were treated to the sight of a red-faced brat shaking a battered old hat, threatening to tear it to pieces. ''My dad said you’d take my choice into account!'' Albus shouted as he shook the Hat, stamping his feet. ''I don’t want to go to Slytherin. Sort me into Gryffindor or your days are numbered!''

The Hat remained silent but Headmistress McGonagall flicked her wand and it soared out of Albus’ grip and into her own hands.

''Most definitely Slytherin,'' the Hat said, sounding amused.

''See, I told you you weren’t really a Potter,'' James called, and his friends sniggered. ''No Potter would be Sorted into Slytherin. I always said you’d been switched at birth.''

Albus said nothing, but Scorpius noticed how tightly his fingers were curled into fists. His face was pale and his lip was quivering.

''I want to go to Gryffindor, please,'' Albus said to the Headmistress. ''The Hat is wrong.''

The Headmistress looked very kindly. ''I’m sorry, Mr Potter. The Hat has made its decision. Please join your new classmates at the Slytherin table.''

Albus looked undecided for a moment, and then he walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down, to claps and cheers from his brother and the other Gryffindor students.

In the end he had to be carried, screaming, to the Slytherin table by an awful giant of a man, all hair and dirt, who came much too close to Scorpius for comfort.

Scorpius eyed the Potter kid, blotchy and snotty, with some dislike and a delicious feeling of superiority. Obviously his father hadn’t taught him the right approach to getting your own way. Why make such a fuss when there was nothing that could be immediately done? Scorpius would have kept quiet and then got his father to make a personal visit to the Headmistress to sort things out. He was sure that Potter’s father would have no scruples against doing the same. Wasn’t that what families were for?

''Stop crying,'' he said dismissively, after Albus’ sobs began to get on his nerves. Was he looking for comfort? From _Slytherins_? If so, he’d be waiting a long time. If they were crocodile tears then it was wasted water and effort. No-one was around who’d pay them the slightest bit of attention.

Albus muttered something that sounded rude.

''My name is Scorpius Malfoy,'' Scorpius said, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. He saw no reason to make enemies before he’d evaluated Potter’s potential as an ally.

Albus shot him a look of dislike. ''I know who you are,'' he snuffled, and then blew his nose violently on a handkerchief that looked like it had seen better days. ''I just saw you Sorted, remember? I hate you already.''

Scorpius glared at him. How dare he! ''I hate you too. Only I had more manners than to say so.''

Albus smiled, but it wasn’t with any friendliness. ''You just did. Now leave me alone. I don’t talk to boys like you.'' He put his small nose in the air and looked away, still snuffling.

Scorpius itched to hex him into oblivion, but managed to stop himself. He probably shouldn’t know at least half of the curses he could already perform, and he didn’t want to get his father into trouble. At least Potter had stopped that infuriating sobbing. That would have to do for now. In future he would just have to avoid the brat.

But, adding insult to injury, Albus Severus was assigned the bed right next to his. It took a hefty muffling charm – one that he wasn’t even supposed to know yet - to block out the idiot’s sobs that night. Even then, Scorpius had a hard time getting to sleep.

  
**2.** _''Only let others see you doing the things you’re good at,'' Father said slowly, after a ten-year-old Scorpius handed him a drawing of Malfoy Manor, done in watercolours. ''Otherwise you leave yourself open to mockery. Do nothing to bring shame or derision upon yourself. This...'' he pursed his lips and looked down at the painting, ''this... art, is all very well if you keep it to yourself, but do not brag about things that you are less than skilled at.''_

'_'Sorry, Father,'' Scorpius said, snatching back the offending watercolour and ripping it up._

_His father looked sad for a moment. ''I did not say you should destroy it, Scorpius. Just keep it to yourself.''_

_But somehow Scorpius never really found the urge to paint again, and when he came across another drawing some months later he’d laughed at what he’d thought was skill, and burned it without a qualm._

 

Albus Severus was worse than useless at Quidditch, Scorpius thought with some disdain as he watched his housemate wobble and gasp as he attempted to fly in a straight line. It was, he thought, rather pathetic that he was here at the tryouts at all. Surely it was worse than stupid to show yourself up as so bad at something in only your first week at school?

Scorpius watched the stony faces of the older boys around him, and felt the hysterical tension that had his muscles in knots fade a little. He had – as they all had, from the looks of it – expected the progeny of Potter to be highly skilled on a broom. His brother, James, was seeker for the Gryffindor team, so why should Albus be any different?

Now it seemed that he, Scorpius, had a good chance at making Seeker. He didn’t particularly enjoy flying. He was always a bit scared of falling and hurting himself. He did, however, have some skill and – combined with the most expensive broom on the market, and a summer’s tuition from none other than Quidditch champion Victor Krum – there was now no reason why he couldn’t make the team and make his father proud.

Potter really was pathetic, Scorpius thought as Albus swayed, his face red with effort and laughter as he attempted to dodge a Bludger and ended up nearly hanging one-handed off his broom. He had to be helped down by two other grim-faced Slytherins, who preferred their housemates alive, no matter how idiotic and useless they were.

''Oh,'' Albus said when he finally landed, and had thanked his rescuers with enthusiasm. ''That was fun! I’m sure I can do better, if you give me a chance.'' He didn’t look at all embarrassed by his performance, or even seem to notice the disdainful looks of the other Slytherins.

Scorpius would have glared at him, if he hadn’t been able to think beyond the fact that it was now his turn. He wished he thought flying was as fun as Albus seemed to find it.

He kicked off and, after a technically perfect flight, was named Seeker. When he landed, and was patted on the back by a variety of older Slytherins, he thought that he should feel proud, and so he tried his best. But when he glanced over at Albus, who was watching with a kind of wistful expression, he thought - how bizarre - of his watercolour painting of so long ago, before he dismissed the memory with a grimace. He was making his mark on Slytherin house already. He was glorifying the name of Malfoy. He was playing his part. Fun was irrelevant.

When he stumbled across an impromptu game of Quidditch between a mixed group of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff second years, cheering Albus on as James flew circles around him - both boys almost falling off their brooms with laughter - Scorpius tried not to feel bad that he hadn’t been invited to play. He didn’t want to, anyway.

  
**3.** _"Make good friends at Hogwarts, but never forget that blood is thicker than water," his father told him during the summer holidays. Then he paused, and his face twisted. ''However much it hurts.''_

_Scorpius suspected that his father was slightly drunk, but thought it wise not to mention this fact. He was beginning to suspect that his father wasn't quite as wise as he seemed._

_"My loyalty is always to you, Sir," Scorpius said, and felt confused when his father winced._

_Later, he asked his mother what Father had meant._

_"He lost a dear friend during the war," his mother said slowly, "but a dear enemy saved him and his parents from a lot worse."_

_She refused to say more and, when asked, his father grew cold and refused to speak to Scorpius for a week. Some things, Scorpius learned, are best left to come out in their own time._

 

At the start of Second Year, Scorpius was pleased to see that his efforts had paid off. He was, to all intents and purposes, the most popular and respected boy in his year in Slytherin House. He was able to pick which students he wanted in his inner circle with just one exception: Potter. Not that he wanted Potter as a friend. Far from it. Sleeping in the bed next to Albus’ every night the previous school year had been quite enough time spent in the irritating boy’s company, thank you very much. All those tears and noisy nightmares. Ugh. He was so… so… _open_ about his emotions. If he was upset then everyone knew about it. It just wasn’t the Slytherin way.

Of course, Albus was rarely in the Slytherin common-room. He only entered the dorms a minute before curfew, jumping fully clothed onto his bed and drawing the curtains. Scorpius hoped that he changed into his pyjamas behind the privacy of the curtains, but then you never could tell. A few of his classmates certainly smelt like they had dubious personal hygiene, so there was no telling, really.

Apparently Albus (who was known universally by the Gryffindor House as ''Al'', a Muggle name if Scorpius had ever heard one), had the password to the Gryffindor common-room and spent the majority of his time there. It was, Scorpius thought heatedly, an insult to the noble traditions of Slytherin house. No, he certainly didn’t want Potter to be his friend, but it irked him to know that if he offered his friendship, the messy-haired Albus would probably laugh in his face.

Instead, Scorpius had to make do with the children of the pure-blooded elite. Which, he supposed, wasn’t much of a hardship. As best friends he’d chosen Gregorius Goyle, the son of an old family friend, and Pallas Zabini. Greg combined impressive bulk with a talent for terrifying Hufflepuffs to brilliant effect, while Pallas was amusing and intelligent – but willing to do as Scorpius told him.

He also had a great deal of time for Circe Bullstrode and Zabini’s sister, Primrose. Circe wasn’t exactly a thing of beauty, what with her lazy eye and acne, but she had a talent for witticisms that often had him almost helpless with laughter. And Primrose? Well she was both charming and beautiful, and although Scorpius didn’t much see her appeal on a physical level, he was amused at the attention she was paid by boys of all houses. The fact that she paid all her attentions to himself was gratifying to his ego and cemented his position as unofficial ''head'' of the Slytherin second years.

Unfortunately, despite scorning Slytherin itself, ''Al'' didn’t have any problem making friends with everyone in the House except Scorpius.

On the first evening back at school, Scorpius stalked into the Great Hall for dinner, only to be greeted by an unpleasant sight. The Gryffindor table was heaving, students from not only Gryffindor but also Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, packed in so tight that some of them looked almost purple from lack of air. The centre of attention was, of course, the messy-haired Al, who was grinning and tossing fragments of bread indiscriminately at his table-mates.

Scorpius sat down at the Slytherin table with a scowl. It really was too much, he thought with asperity. The Houses were separate because they were supposed to be separate. It was tradition. It was right. What the hell was Potter playing at, trying to unite them all? He was a traitor to Salazar and to anyone who wore Slytherin green.

Circe entered the Hall, tripping over her feet and pushing back her untidy hair with a blush and an irritated scowl. Scorpius waved at her, motioning her to sit by him. She started to move towards him but then Al also spotted her. He grinned, shoved dramatically at the person sitting next to him - who laughed, and shoved back - and beckoned her to squeeze in beside him.

Scorpius smirked. Potter would soon learn that true Slytherins were immune to his brand of imbecilic, messy charm.

Circe sat down next to Al.

And when Scorpius - spluttering with rage - attempted to explain to Greg, in detail, with appropriate hand gestures, just _why_ Al Potter was such bad news in all respects, Greg shrugged, and muttered something that could have been ''I think you’re a bit obsessed, mate''.

Scorpius chose not to hear. He knew where his loyalties lay, even if arsewipes like Greg Goyle were willing to betray everything their families stood for. Tradition was everything. Tradition was all.

  
**4.** _''Never forget,'' Father said sternly, as he signed Scorpius’ permission form allowing him to go to his first ever school Hogsmeade weekend, just before the start of his third year at Hogwarts, ''that your conduct reflects on your family. Others may be content to let their offspring run wild, but as Malfoys we have standards. You can spend your money as you like, but do not let me hear that you have abused our trust in you.''_

_Scorpius flushed with bad grace, and scowled. ''It wasn’t my fault that Al Potter picked a fight when we went to pick up my new robes,'' he mumbled. ''He started it.''_

_Father fixed him with a cold glare. ''Potter or not, no son of mine will humiliate himself in public, do I make myself clear?''_

_''Yes, Sir,'' Scorpius said, but he had to bite his tongue until he tasted blood to stop himself from arguing. Father was a hypocrite. And Scorpius wasn’t sure how to cope with that._

 

''Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks,'' Scorpius said airily to Primrose and Circe, who walked arm in arm beside him, Greg and Pallas trailing behind and sniggering at some muttered joke.

Primrose wrinkled her nose and dropped Circe’s arm, sliding her hand through the bend of Scorpius’ right arm and bumping her hip against his. ''Must we? Those awful Potter boys are bound to be in there, and it’ll be crawling with Hufflepuffs. You could take me to Madam Puddifoot’s for tea if you liked,'' she said in a half-whisper, her fingers tightening around his arm in a possessive grip. ''I’ve heard lovely things about it.''

Scorpius tried not to feel repulsed by her. It was _flattering_ the way she acted towards him, not unpleasant, he reminded himself. It took more work not to flinch each time she touched him that way though, and he wasn’t sure why. Her blood was perfectly pure, and her family background entirely suitable for someone of his standing. Probably it was because she was so unsubtle in her attentions, he reasoned. It just wasn’t classy to be so obvious.

''Let’s just pop in and see what it’s like,'' Scorpius said, trying not to snap. ''We’ve got plenty of time, Primsie.'' As he’d hoped, the use of the vile pet name she adored placated her, and she smiled and flicked her hair, snuggling in closer to him.

Circe rolled her eyes and made a hand gesture that indicated that she was going to be violently sick.

Scorpius, trying not to laugh, unwound himself from Primrose as subtly as he could and led the way into the pub.

Inside, it was packed with Hogswarts students. James Potter was sitting at one of the long tables, a glass of Butterbeer in his hand, shouting out numbers gleefully as two Hufflepuff third years attempted to down their drinks in one.

Scorpius wrinkled his nose and looked around. Al was nowhere to be seen. Scorpius couldn’t decide if this was a good or a bad thing. He hadn’t been hoping that Al would be in the pub. Not really. But keeping a close eye on your rivals was always a good idea, in case they did something unexpected. Plus, when Albus was around there was always a good chance that he’d do something idiotic. Scorpius had highly developed pointing and laughing skills, but he always appreciated a chance to hone them further.

''Well, get the drinks in then,'' Scorpius said to Greg, realising to his irritation that he’d been staring at James, who was now pulling a revolting face in his direction. ''I’ll find us a table.''

None was available but, after a few minutes of glaring, a table of impressionable Ravenclaws grew uncomfortable enough to leave.

Then Al walked in. Or, rather, swayed in. Because, to Scorpius’ mixed delight and horror, someone had evidently got him drunk. James was laughing and beckoning him over, and it didn’t take much of a brain to work out whom the culprit was.

Al nearly fell over as he attempted to sit down but managed to fall onto the bench, rather than the floor. He laughed heartily at nothing, and smiled at the Gryffindor girl next to him, his eyes unfocused.

She reached out and - to a chorus of cheers - pulled Al towards her, their lips meeting in a clumsy kiss. Al pulled away, clearly surprised, but then shrugged and laughed, and leant forwards for another go.

Scorpius didn’t mean to watch, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the disturbing sight. Was he watching Al’s first kiss? Scorpius hadn’t kissed anyone yet. Not that he hadn’t had the chance, of course, but he wasn’t interested in kissing just _any_ drunken tart. He had standards, unlike Al.

Kissing looked… Scorpius felt himself reddening, and took a hasty swig of his cold drink. It looked like fun. The two of them certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves. Al’s eyes were screwed shut, his knees pressed hard against the girl’s, his hand tangled in her hair. As they relaxed, their mouths parted slightly and Scorpius caught glimpses of tongue playing against tongue.

To his absolute disgust he realised that he could feel his cock, trapped inside the trousers under his robe, hard against the inside of his thigh. Thank Merlin for loose robes, he thought with no small degree of self-loathing. Honestly, the very idea of getting turned on by one’s enemy kissing a girl who wasn‘t even a Slytherin. There was wrong, there was very wrong and then there was _this_.

Scorpius looked away from Al and caught James’ eye. He cocked an eyebrow at Scorpius, glanced towards Al and back to Scorpius and… _smiled_. As if he could read Scorpius’ very thoughts.

The look on James’ face as every goblet in the pub simultaneously rose, emptied themselves on his head and then proceeded to attack him, following him as he fled, yelling, down the street, was worth the subsequent detentions and blistering lecture from his father. So very worth it. Slytherin pride be damned.

He almost didn’t mind that Al had managed to get away with being drunk in public, not even getting a paltry detention or lecture, as far as he could tell.

Almost.

  
**5.** _''Father,'' Scorpius said slowly, and waited for him to look up from his paperwork._

_''Yes?''_

_Scorpius had found himself increasingly wondering what exactly his father was doing, spending hours at his desk when he didn’t have a job and Mother ran the household, but he’d never quite found the nerve to ask. Now didn’t feel like the ideal time, either. ''I need your advice.''_

_''Go on.''_

_''How do I deal with… with a problem classmate?'' Scorpius asked, not wanting to admit a weakness, but desperately wanting his father’s advice. He was clinging on to his reputation as the head of his Slytherin year by a thread. One more mistake… He tried not to wince. That stupid, ridiculous Al Potter just rattled him, that was all. He couldn’t keep his cool when he was around. Not that he was planning on admitting to his father that he was handling the next generation of Potters as badly as his father had handled the first._

_His father stared at him, and his lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile. ''I always found that sarcasm and insults were enough to provoke Potter into violent indiscretions,'' he said and laughed without humour. ''I doubt his sons will prove any different.'' He turned back to his papers, grasping his pen in a way that suggested that the conversation was definitely over._

_Scorpius left, feeling determined. Sarcastic insults he could do - and more. This year Potter would pay _ _for the way he made Scorpius feel. His fourth year at Hogwarts would be the best year yet. _

 

Everyone in the Great Hall burst into giggles when Al entered, and he looked confused, his mouth twitching as if he was longing to join in but wasn’t quite sure if it was a good idea or not. ''What?'' he said, squeezing in next to his sister on the Gryffindor table and grinning at her. ''Did I sprout an extra head?''

Lily smiled back and nudged Rose. ''You didn’t look in the mirror this morning, did you?''

Al shook his head, taking the mirror that Rose had fished out of a pocket in her robes and peering at himself.

''My hair’s green,'' he said and frowned, glancing over at the Slytherin table.

Scorpius tried not to react, but he couldn’t help the smug expression that crept over his face. Potter looked absolutely ridiculous - his hair green, his eyes green, his robe edged with green. Like he’d been rolling in grass, or something equally moronic.

He’d also find, when he looked in his school bag, that his quills only worked with green ink. Scorpius was quite proud of that one.

Al caught his eye and Scorpius’ smug smile froze on his lips. Al didn’t look angry. Just… perplexed. His eyes were shadowed with dark circles, and his skin was pale. He evidently hadn’t slept well the night before, and Scorpius wondered how he hadn’t noticed the magic being worked upon him.

''Well, I think you look adorable,'' Lily said, ruffling her brother’s hair and smiling up at him.

There was a chorus of agreement from the girls at the table, and a lot of good-natured eye-rolling from the boys. And that was that.

All in all, Scorpius thought with some irritation, the prank hadn’t gone down quite as well he had hoped. He would just have to try harder next time, that was all.

 

~#~~#~~#~

The next day, Scorpius decided that Al, still green tinged, had too many possessions. So he took some. Well, all of them, scattering them liberally across the castle.

When Al returned from his nightly trip to mingle with the Gryffindor enemy, he paused and looked first at his bed, and then over at Scorpius.

Scorpius wondered if stealing the sheets, bedclothes and curtains had been overkill, as he struggled to stare back with as bland an expression as he could muster.

Al pressed his lips so tightly together that they went white, and walked out of the dormitory. He didn’t speak, but he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and his back – Scorpius thought – was very expressive.

It took Scorpius some time to fall sleep that night.

~#~~#~~#~

The next day the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were playing ''hunt for Al’s things'', and Al was grinning like a loon and offering bribes to anyone who tracked something of his down.

Scorpius was maddened to see that Al was wearing a Ravenclaw robe, a Hufflepuff tie and a Gryffindor scarf.

He tried not to grind his teeth when Al didn’t even turn to look at him that night when he entered the dorm, all his things apparently returned to his trunk and his bed newly made by the house elves.

Still, he couldn’t have found the photo album. That was safely concealed in Scorpius’ locked trunk. Al wasn’t going to win this fight _quite_ so easily if he, Scorpius, had anything to do with it.

Nevertheless, Scorpius had an uncomfortable feeling that he was making something of a fool of himself.

~#~~#~~#~

''Where’s my photo album, Scorpius?''

Scorpius looked up from the bread roll that he was shredding between his fingers, and tried not to do anything that would give him away. Al was still amusingly green-tinged around the edges, but his expression was serious and quiet.

''What makes you think I took it?'' Scorpius said, trying to sound sarcastic and cutting. ''You’re always losing your stuff. You’re a disgrace to wizards worldwide.'' He winced. Not quite the height of wit he’d been aiming for.

Al frowned, and then looked… _nervous_, Scorpius thought with surprise. Al’s tongue flickered out to moisten his lips, and Scorpius couldn’t force himself to look away.

''I gave everyone else stuff for finding my things,'' Al said slowly.

Was that a faint tinge of a _blush_, rising up his cheeks?

''If you give it back, I’ll give you something in return,'' Al continued.

''Supposing I did have it. What would you give me?''

''Supposing! There’s no supposing, you slimy bastard,'' James Potter interrupted, slinging an arm over Al’s shoulder, who pushed him off.

''What? It’s true,'' James protested. ''He took your stuff for no reason other than that he’s a bastard.''

''Pure-blood, actually,'' Scorpius snapped, ''unlike some.''

''Looking to make something of it?'' James said, raising his voice.

The general chatter in the Hall had died down, and heads began to turn in their direction.

''Just like a Potter to cause a scene,'' Scorpius sneered. ''Blood will out.''

Al flinched, and Scorpius felt his insides shift, almost as if he’d dropped suddenly on his broomstick.

''Will you give it back?'' Al all but whispered.

''I’ll _make_ him give it back, the bleedin’—''

''Look, fuck off will you, James?'' Al interrupted. ''This is my business. I didn’t ask for your help. Scorpius?''

''What will you give me if I give it back?'' Scorpius replied, and then could have kicked himself for admitting that he had the stupid thing.

Al looked, for some unknown reason, even more nervous, and then he grinned suddenly. ''Well, I kissed the girls. If you don’t give me back the album this instant, I’ll kiss you, too. Think of it as an anti-gift; if you give my album back, you won’t be getting something you don’t want.'' He advanced a few steps towards Scorpius and puckered up winningly. ''I’ll count to three.''

Scorpius felt his heart pick up speed. _Everyone_ was _watching_.

''Fuck off, Potter,'' he said, trying to sound unconcerned. ''Take your germs elsewhere and leave me be. As if I’d be swayed by _that_ pathetic argument. You’re going to have to do a lot better.''

Al laughed, but it didn’t sound there was any malice behind it. He shrugged. ''Fine. You asked for it.''

As Al took a step forward and leaned down, Scorpius felt as if all his limbs had frozen; like he was in some awful body-bind nightmare. He tried to sneer and tell Potter to go screw himself, oh _Merlin_ he tried, but his entire nervous-system seemed to have fused and was preventing his brain from relaying any commands to his body.

The touch of Al’s lips – warm and firm against his – was so disturbingly delicious, so wonderful that Scorpius almost kissed back, before he flinched and Al instantly moved away.

It was, Scorpius thought hysterically, certainly an odd first kiss by anyone’s standards. He had to clasp his hands tightly together under the table to stop them from shaking.

''I still want my album back,'' Al said and laughed.

At least Scorpius _thought_ it had been Al laughing. It could have been James, or any of the other Gryffindors really. All he knew for sure was that he’d been humiliated in public, by the boy who confused him most in the world, the boy whom he hated and admired and loathed and fucking _adored_ – in a complex, contradictory and no doubt highly screwed-up kind of a way - who was his own housemate and so meant to be on his side, and now people _were laughing at him_.

He’d hexed Al, James and a good few of the laughing idiots before the teachers managed to restrain him, and drag him away to calm down.

Like father, like son, he consoled himself, as the hateful tears rolled down his cheeks in his temporary solitary confinement, and didn’t even know if he was referring to himself or to Al.

  
**6.** _''I don’t see why you don’t show off your Dark Mark, Father,'' Scorpius said, trying to provoke his father into showing anger – anything – after Mother had left them both for an international Quidditch player. ''Then people might pay you a little more respect.''_

_The strength of his father’s fist connecting with his nose came as a surprise._

_''I will not hex my own son,'' his father said, his voice low and venomous. ''But if you don’t watch your mouth I’ll give you such a beating that you’ll never forget it.''_

_Apparently, Scorpius thought, appearances are everything when they’re all you have left._

 

Scorpius started his fifth year with mixed feelings of desperation and grim determination. He was resolved that this year he would refrain from any and all embarrassing Potter-related incidents, no matter the provocation. The papers that summer had been full of sly hints and barbs about the enmity between the latest generation of the Potters and the Malfoys. It was humiliating beyond belief.

Receiving the letter that named him prefect had been both a surprise and a great relief. Father would never have let him hear the end of it if he hadn’t managed to gain the position. Plus, if he were a prefect then tradition stated that the other fifth year Slytherin prefect would be a girl and not, say, a certain messy-haired irritation.

So the announcement that Al Potter was to be the other fifth year Slytherin prefect? _Not_ such a wonderful surprise.

Still, Scorpius grit his teeth and held out his hand for Al to shake, almost impressed when Al gripped it and smiled slightly at him without malice. Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult, after all.

~#~~#~~#~

Scorpius was hidden in the book stacks of the library, doing his best to find an elusive textbook for a spot of extra-curricular reading, (it was the O.W.L.s year, after all, and he could do with any help he could get), when he heard voices.

He paused, unwilling to let an opportunity to use his new prefect powers pass him by. Talking was forbidden in the library, and Scorpius crept closer to the source of the whispers, ready to take points.

Then he heard his name, and froze.

''Did you hear about Scorpius’ mum?'' a male voice said, the tone catty and amused.

''Kind of hard not to hear,'' another snorted. Scorpius instantly recognised the voice and his fingers curled tight around his wand. It was James sodding Potter. ''Given how it’s been on the front cover of the Daily Prophet every day for the past two weeks.''

There was a pause. ''She’s got great tits, mind you,'' James continued, and then there was some hearty laughter.

Scorpius felt himself flushing with anger and shame. Wasn’t his family name tarnished enough without his own mother ruining his life?

''I feel sorry for Scorpius,'' someone said quietly.

Scorpius bit his lip so hard that he could taste blood, sharp and metallic, in his mouth. That was _Al’s_ voice. It was inconceivably awful that Al should feel sorry for him.

''He deserves all he gets,'' James replied. ''That awful, stuck-up tit. He’s worse than his father, and he was bad enough. Imagine being the son of such a pathetic traitor.''

Scorpius leapt out from behind the book stack he was hiding behind, and raised his wand threateningly at James. ''TAKE THAT BACK!'' he all but screamed, his throat feeling raw and his stomach churning. He _loved_ his father, fucking arse that he might be half the time. He even respected him, damn it, and no-one was going to insult him like that and get away with it. James Potter had _no idea_ what his father had been through. No idea at all.

''Like father, like son, I see,'' James said witheringly. ''Coward.''

Scorpius took a very deep breath and lowered his wand. ''You have no idea what you’re talking about,'' he managed to say, trying to push down his rising temper and make his father proud of him for once. ''You don’t know anything about what happened. Did your father ever tell you about the time that he nearly killed mine, on purpose?''

James’ face screwed up in anger. ''You’re a fucking liar.''

''And you’re a fucking moron.''

James raised his wand in a flash, and Scorpius flinched as the hex hit him full in the chest.

He wondered later, as he recovered under the tender care of Poppy Pomfrey, if he’d dreamed the image of Al attempting to tug James away as he launched the hex; a concerned, terrified face peering down into his as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Al didn’t visit him in the hospital wing, so he concluded that it was all a hallucination brought on by stress. There was no way he _wanted_ it to be real, after all. No way in hell.

  
**7.** _''You remind me so much of grandfather,'' Scorpius said one afternoon to his father, after he’d watched him reduce a female Ministry of Magic employee to a quivering wreck, and then get exactly his own way._

_He hadn’t expected his father to go quite so still and pale at that, his quill falling noiselessly from between fingers that twitched and shook until he tucked his hand out of sight._

_He thought he finally understood how blood could be thicker than water and, simultaneously, how sometimes one’s own family could be worse than anything at all._

 

On the first day back at Hogwarts there was an odd sense of euphoria amongst the sixth year students. Exams were passed, and N.E.W.T.s still far enough away to not be a terrifying prospect.

Still, Scorpius thought gloomily, as he sipped at a glass of Firewhiskey that had been overenthusiastically filled by some Gryffindor of whose name he wasn’t quite sure, that was no excuse for an odd, unlikely combination of spin the bottle and truth or dare. And he certainly had no excuse for his idiocy in getting roped into playing, when – quite honestly – he’d rather disembowel over half the participants than _have fun_ with them. Not that this was fun. Far, far from it. If he learned anything from this terrible experience, it would be never to trust a Slytherin female when she asked him, in a sweet voice, to ''come and have some fun''. Circe was such a _cow_.

Scorpius would have left, but some bright spark had decided to place a hex on the immediate area in which the game was being played. Once in it was either play or leave suffering from some rather repulsive boils. Scorpius thought that, on balance, he’d rather have the boils, but then again truth or dare was always worth a laugh, if only for the disturbing honesty that some of the students often displayed.

The bottle spun and, as it slowed down, Scorpius saw, with horrible finality, Al sit down opposite him.

Fate really, really hated him.

''So, Al, it’s either snog Scorpius or give us a juicy truth,'' said Griselda, a big-bosomed Gryffindor girl, all hair and teeth. She gave Al a nudge to the ribs and laughed as Al winced, and then grinned back at her.

''What’s the question?'' Al asked, not looking at Scorpius.

Scorpius wondered if he were doing it on purpose. It was the first time he’d seen Al this term, and practically the first time he’d seen him since The Library Incident last year. Al had shown himself highly skilled in the art of avoidance, despite the evident difficulties involved in avoiding someone who slept in the bed next to yours. It was almost impressive, in a highly insulting kind of way.

''Us girls would like to know,'' Griselda said, smiling widely, ''whom you most fancy.''

Al went pink, and several of the girls started to giggle.

''I’d rather not say,'' Al said after a brief pause, and looked down at his feet. ''I don’t think he likes me back.''

There was a shocked silence for a few moments as everyone took in the full import of his words, and then the game broke up amidst hugs and sympathy and so much support offered that Scorpius felt quite ill.

Scorpius’ heart was beating so hard and so fast that he wondered, quite idly, if it were possible to die from it. Could Al mean… Surely he didn’t… And surely he, Scorpius, didn’t want… It was ridiculous. Wasn’t it? His neck ached from the tension in his shoulders and he suddenly found that it took a great deal of mental effort to remember how to breathe. The natural rhythms seemed impossible to find, and he wondered if he were hyperventilating.

Al got up and left, followed by a gaggle of friends. Scorpius sat there for a moment, absolutely paralysed with fear – and yet, contradictorily, he had to knit his fingers tight together to stop them shaking. His palms felt clammy, and for a moment the world swayed and closed in on itself. Scorpius took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself, his mind whirring. Then, feeling rather sick, he thought _fuck it_ and got up, half jogging after Al.

He caught up with the group, but didn’t see the tousle-haired Potter anywhere. Until, that is, he saw him locked in an embrace with a fellow sixth year Hufflepuff boy, all red-faced and dishevelled as the Hufflepuff pressed him up against the castle wall in a manner that was surely far too lewd for public display.

Scorpius stared, and turned, walking away quickly before anyone could see his expression.

He didn’t think he’d ever hated anyone quite so much as he hated Al Potter at that moment.

  
**8.** _''Why did you marry Mother?'' Scorpius asked._

_His father didn’t answer right away, twirling a quill between his fingers and leaning forward so that his long hair swung in front of his face for a moment, before he tossed it back with an irritated look. His father was rarely in the mood to just sit outside and talk with Scorpius; he always had to have a pile of papers. Almost, Scorpius reflected, like a security blanket._

_Scorpius hoped he hadn’t gone too far. Ever since Mother had left, his father had been up and down; sometimes icy cold and stiff, and sometimes overenthusiastic and overfriendly towards Scorpius, probing too far into his personal life and getting irritated when Scorpius was evasive. But if Scorpius asked questions of his own, Father often flared up into an uncharacteristic temper tantrum._

_''She came from a good family,'' his father said slowly, putting his quill down and looking into the distance. ''She was beautiful and well-mannered. Younger than myself, and easy to control.''_

_Scorpius wrinkled his nose in disgust, and said nothing._

_''Our mothers devised the match, and we had no objections,'' his father continued, and then looked over at Scorpius, his face stiff. ''I believe the same happened for your grandparents.''_

_Scorpius tried not to let the shock show on his face._

_His father looked away. ''I shall not do the same for you. You should be free to…'' He paused for a long time. ''Free to make your own mistakes, rather than have mistakes foisted upon you. Some traditions are not worth keeping. I wish for you to be happy in your choices.''_

_Scorpius thought about how much he was capable of disappointing his father and found it hard to keep from trembling._

 

The moment he saw the unicorn, Scorpius knew that today was going to be a very, very bad day indeed, with the potential to absolutely fuck up the whole of the rest of seventh year.

''This is such a treat for you all,'' the Potions Mistress Professor Hart cooed, clapping her hands. ''Unicorns are so hard to catch, and they have so many wonderful properties. It’s a great honour that this magnificent beast has deigned to stay with us for this lesson. We will be setting it free once we have harvested some of its hair, and then of course I will teach you of the wondrous potions that can be made.''

She opened the door to the stable that the unicorn currently inhabited and the gleaming white beast stepped out, tossing its hair and looking superior.

Primrose immediately stepped forward to greet it, and it suffered her touch for a few moments before backing away. Primrose looked put out, but also rather smug. She shot a look at Scorpius, who nodded shortly. He got the point. She was seventeen and still untouched by a man. Bully for her.

Al, apparently standing as far away as possible from the Hufflepuff boy he’d been almost surgically attached to the previous year, took a ginger step towards the creature. It snorted and moved backwards. Al frowned, and took another step forwards. The unicorn staggered away from him, coming up close to the Hufflepuff who was making cow eyes at Al. The unicorn whinnied and half-reared away, its eyes widening in fear.

And then – of _course_, Scorpius thought bitterly, because _nothing_ good ever happened to him in his life – it trotted briskly up to Scorpius himself and knelt before him. Scorpius required all his courage to bend down and comfort the terrified creature, which neighed softly under his touch and calmed down almost immediately. Stupid bloody thing, he thought with some ferocity. Weren’t unicorns supposed to like girls better than boys? Were even _dumb animals_ now conspiring to make him look an idiot in front of everyone?

''Excellent!'' Professor Hart said. ''Mr Potter, Mr Brown, do please step as far away from the creature as you can. Only the pure may interact with the noble unicorn. Mr Malfoy, if you could pluck a few hairs from its mane?''

Scorpius did his best not to die of shame. And what a struggle that was. He could hear the snickers of his classmates around him. He had no doubt that most of them were just as… as _pure_ as himself, but they hadn’t had it pointed out quite so obviously, had they? While Al fucking Potter and his… his… _Hufflepuff_ were quite obviously… Well. It didn’t need spelling out, did it?

He plucked out a handful of hair from the beast’s mane. It squirmed slightly but did not protest, leaning in towards him in a loving manner.

When the lesson was over, and the beast was free to leave, it had to be prevented from following Scorpius to his next lesson with a strong spell. Scorpius only managed to refrain from kicking the fucking thing with some considerable effort.

Life, Scorpius thought with immense irritation as a gaggle of girls surrounded him, all smiles and not-so-subtle comments about how they _loved_ a man who waited, was intolerable. And could not, in any way, get any worse.

  
**9.** _Unable to sleep one night Scorpius noticed that the light in his father’s study was still on, so he padded down the hall and pushed open the door. The question on his lips died when he saw his father curled up on a sofa, shaking with sobs, his face wet and his long hair wild._

_His father stiffened instantly, and an expression of anger, embarrassment and extreme weariness clouded his face. ''Did I never teach you to knock?'' he said, his voice calm and controlled, but the effect was somewhat diluted by his bloodshot eyes and the way his hands clenched convulsively into fists._

_Scorpius wavered. He knew, instinctively, that the thing to do – the manly thing, the family way – would be to leave and pretend that he’d never seen his father anything other than strong and in control._

_He couldn’t do it._

_He crossed the room and sat next to his father, wrapping his arms gingerly around him. For a time his father just sat there, quiet and unresponsive. And then, like a floodgate opening, he wept openly and loudly, his whole body shaking with sadness, his tears damp against Scorpius’ cheek as he leaned against him, taking the comfort freely offered._

_The next morning his father was cool and calm and in control once more, but at the end of breakfast he looked over at Scorpius, his expression at once soft and tense, and said ''thank you'', before changing the subject with ease._

_And Scorpius knew that, whatever he did in life, however badly he screwed up or however much of a disappointment his choices were, he would always love his Father, and that his deeply loyal love would be returned._

_But he also knew he’d never feel like a child ever again._

 

Over the course of the Christmas holidays Scorpius had decided, with some vehemence, that he didn’t care about the stupid Unicorn Incident. His birthday came and went, and with it came an awful sense of responsibility. He was now officially an adult, and his father had made him privy to a great deal of information on various business deals and manoeuvres that suddenly explained exactly _why_ his father was always working even though he didn’t technically have a job. And then there were the stupid N.E.W.T. exams to worry about, too. What, in the grand scheme of things, was a touch of embarrassment when you had your intellectual pride to care about?

Quite a big deal indeed, Scorpius decided when he returned to Hogwarts and a Slytherin student – he didn’t manage to catch who, or by damn he would have strung them up – whinnied softly in his ear. He was, evidently, never Ii&gt;ever going to live it down.

So when the Potions Mistress informed them that they would be examined on how well they could invent a potion utilising unicorn hair for their N.E.W.T.s, Scorpius didn’t even flinch. He simply tapped his prefect’s badge in an idle but meaningful way and tried not to explode. At least he’d be able to harvest the fucking hair, he supposed. And, when this year was finally over, he’d never have to see a single member of his class ever again.

~#~~#~~#~

''Will you help me test my potion?''

Scorpius raised an eyebrow at Primrose. ''No.''

''Oh, go on,'' Primrose said. ''Pretty, pretty please?''

Scorpius tried not to grind his teeth. ''What sort of potion is it?''

''Oh, just, you know. My unicorn potion for the exam. Nothing special.''

''Primrose…'' Scorpius warned.

Primrose smiled very sweetly. ''What are you, a coward? It won’t kill you. It’s just a stupid friendship potion, inspiring harmony and Hufflepuffian sweetness in disgusting amounts.''

Scorpius rolled his eyes. ''How repellent. Fine, I’ll help. But if I’m horribly maimed, there will be legal consequences, let me tell you.''

Primrose laughed. ''Naturally. The professor said I could use the lab tomorrow afternoon to test it. Come by right after lunch.''

''What larks,'' Scorpius said, wrinkling his nose. ''I can hardly wait.''

~#~~#~~#~

It was _fucking typical_ Scorpius thought as Al Potter shoved past him, almost sending him flying, and – practically simultaneously – a spray of silver, wet, shimmering goo coated them both. Not only had Primrose failed to mention that Circe would also be testing her potion, with the help of a certain _deadly enemy_ of his, but now he was _covered_ in _ikk_.

And then the pain hit.

Nothing as simple as a physical pain. There was no area he could pin it down to. Couldn’t say ''there, my leg,'' or even ''ow, my sodding skin’s on fire''. He looked down at himself in utter terror, but everything _appeared_ to be okay. No limbs obviously missing. Skin a normal colour. But the _pain_… It felt like - Scorpius shook his head violently, trying to clear it - like all the loneliness and heartache he’d ever experienced ever had clumped together and was… _squeezing_ at his chest. He tried to breathe, but he couldn’t quite manage it and staggered, coming up hard against Al, who was wiping his face and looking infuriated.

Touching Al had a bizarre, terrifying and very, very, _very_ welcome effect. The pain dulled, and was replaced by a kind of strange, delightful warmth, which almost seemed to be emanating from Al and seeping down Scorpius’ arm from where he touched Al and into his very soul.

It was altogether too, too nauseating.

Scorpius snatched back his hand before Al could push him away, and was once more overcome by a wave of awfulness. He gasped and clutched at Al’s wrist.

''Get _off_ me,'' Al said with a scowl, trying to pull away. ''Don’t even try to blame this one on me. We’re lucky we’re not sprouting tails or something, rather than just covered in this crap.''

Scorpius felt his insides drop. Al didn’t feel anything wrong with him at all? Was this something to do with the _you-know-what_ that the Unicorn Incident had so hideously revealed to everyone?

Al took advantage of Scorpius’ sudden confusion to pull away.

The room swayed, and Scorpius nearly fell over. ''I never thought I’d ever, ever say anything quite so awful as I’m about to,'' he managed, as his vision blurred. ''But if you, Albus Severus, don’t hold my hand _right now_ I think I might pass out.''

Al didn’t move.

''For fuck’s sake!'' Scorpius yelled.

A hand clasped his, and the room swam back into focus. Al was glaring at him with a very unpleasant expression. ''If you’re taking the piss, Malfoy…''

''Oh, yes, because I really _want_ to hold your hand, Potter,'' Scorpius snapped back. ''Are you telling me that the potion had no effect on you? Because I think that it’s given me serious brain damage.''

Al’s jaw clenched. ''You seem just the same as usual. Unpleasant, irritating and a total nightmare to be around.''

''Shut up, you two,'' Circe said crossly. She had her arm around Primrose, who was frowning and knitting her fingers together, evidently not sure whether to be worried about Scorpius or annoyed that her potion had exploded. ''Are you seriously telling me that the potion’s done something to you, Scorpius?''

Scorpius glared at her. ''Well, I’m holding hands with Al fucking Potter for the good of my health, so I’d say that something’s definitely wrong.''

Al snatched back his hand and looked deeply offended.

Scorpius tried to reach forward to regain the contact, but a wave of pain overcame him and the room slipped in blackness.

~#~~#~~#~

Scorpius woke up with a splitting headache and something clamped around his wrist. He shook his arm, but it didn’t budge.

''Stop wriggling, Scorpius,'' Al said in an aggrieved voice.

_Oh, Merlin_.

Scorpius cracked one eyelid open. He was lying in a bed in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey looking worried in front of him, and Al clinging to his side like a limpet.

''What the hell happened to me, and why haven’t you fixed it?'' Scorpius said, when no-one made a move to explain anything to him. ''Have you called my father yet?''

Madam Pomfrey looked sympathetic and businesslike. ''Don’t worry, Mr Malfoy. You don’t appear to be in any immediate danger, as long as you are in close contact with Mr Potter here. Professor Hart is working in collaboration with Headmistress McGonagall to discover exactly what the potion was, and why it has affected you but not Mr Potter.''

''What do I do until you find a cure?'' Scorpius asked, feeling very, very annoyed. ''Sit about holding hands with my dear friend here?''

Al’s face darkened with something that could have been embarrassment or anger, but he made no attempt to let go of Scorpius’ hand to Scorpius’ reluctant relief.

''You will stay in this private room with Mr Potter,'' Madam Pomfrey said, her tone calm. ''We’ll bring over some of your schoolwork if necessary so you won’t fall behind.''

''I can’t leave this room?''

Madam Pomfrey looked undecided for a moment, and then she stepped forward and briefly placed a hand on Scorpius’ arm.

Scorpius gasped. The pain was unbearable. It was all he could do not to cry. Luckily for his dignity, it receded as soon as Madam Pomfrey let go.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. ''I’m sorry, Mr Malfoy. We just can’t risk anyone else touching you at the moment. You’ll be safest here.''

''But Al and I will kill each other,'' Scorpius muttered.

''You’ll just have to learn to get along,'' Madam Pomfrey said. ''You’re both seventeen, aren’t you? Adult grown men. It shouldn’t be hard.''

Scorpius looked over at Al. His jaw was clenched and he looked mutinous. This was going to be a very, very long couple of days.

~#~~#~~#~

A few hours later, Scorpius had to admit to something he’d been trying very hard to deny to himself - the pain was getting worse. Al still had one hand around Scorpius’ wrist, the other clutching a book that he was reading in total silence, but the soothing feeling was diminishing rapidly.

The question was, Scorpius thought rather desperately, was it Al’s touch that was failing, or was it the surface area of the touch? If he grabbed Al and hugged him, would he feel any better?

''What?'' Al asked tetchily, eyes still fixed on his book. ''I can feel you staring at me.''

''Nothing,'' Scorpius muttered. Maybe if he pretended to faint on Al then he could test his hypothesis without too much embarrassment.

Al shifted. ''My arm aches,'' he complained. ''Do you think you’ll be okay if I let go for a moment and sit on the other side of you?''

Scorpius stiffened at the insufferableness of the situation. ''I think I can bear to be without you for a few seconds.''

And promptly blacked out as soon as Al let go.

''Scorpius? Scorpius!''

Scorpius opened his eyes, feeling ridiculously embarrassed and annoyed. Al was standing over the bed, holding both his arms in a death-grip. ''I do bruise, you know.''

Al looked infuriated. ''You are such a prat. You had me terrified for a moment there.''

''I didn’t know you cared,'' Scorpius sneered, his whole body aching with the need to wrap himself around Al, and never mind the shame.

''Fuck you. I just don’t want to see you die,'' Al said.

Scorpius’ willpower broke. He yanked on Al’s robes - Al falling hard on top of him with a muffled noise that could have been surprise or anger, or both.

Al’s body was warm and hard and soft all in one, and Scorpius felt Al's breath warm against his neck, his hair tickling his cheek. To Scorpius’ surprise, Al didn’t punch him or try to murder him. He just _lay_ there, half-supporting his own weight on his elbows, half-pressing Scorpius down into the mattress.

It felt _amazing_.

''I really, really hate you,'' Scorpius said with some passion.

Al propped himself up a bit higher and looked down at Scorpius, his expression tense. ''Feel better?''

Scorpius winced. ''Yes,'' he felt compelled to admit, in case a negative would inspire Al to move in any direction other than closer.

Al looked back at him with an unfathomable expression, and carefully rolled off Scorpius, shoving him over on the bed so that they were sitting hip to hip, their legs pressed together. Then he leaned down to grab his book. ''For fuck’s sake _say_ something if you feel worse,'' he said, and stared down at his book with grim determination.

Scorpius, resisting the dreadful urge to wrap his limbs around Al like some kind of octopus beast, said nothing.

~#~~#~~#~

After 47 minutes, 27 seconds, Scorpius’ vision was blurring and he was digging his fingernails so hard into his palms that he was sure he’d break the skin at any moment.

He was so hyper-aware of Al’s every movement, that it almost felt like slow-motion when Al turned and looked at him sideways. ''Hurts?'' Al asked, his voice sounding odd to Scorpius’ ears.

''Fuck,'' Scorpius managed, his entire body on edge with the dull, awful ache that was growing worse by the second.

Al put down his book carefully and pulled Scorpius towards him, wrapping an arm around his side and hooking his leg over him.

When Scorpius’s vision had cleared a little he saw that Al’s eyes were squeezed tight shut, his expression tense and angry looking.

Scorpius wanted to scream. The odd, aching pain was getting worse by the hour, and even increasing closeness to Al wasn’t cutting through it quite as well as it had before. Even now the feeling of warmth and pleasure that was emanating from Al, spreading through Scorpius’ limbs and deadening the awful feeling, was diminishing. It wasn’t, Scorpius thought viciously, as if they could get much closer.

He shivered, and Al opened his eyes, his expression unreadable. ''Still bad?''

Scorpius nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Al bit his lip. ''If I do something you won’t like, do you promise not to hex me?''

Scorpius frowned. ''What can you possibly do that will make this entire fucked up situation any worse?''

Al coloured. ''This,'' he muttered, and firmly, deliberately, rolled on top of Scorpius, pinning him to the bed. And kissed him.

For a moment Scorpius just lay there, overwhelmed by the strength of the feelings flooding through him. It was like… well, he didn’t know _what_ it was like, only that it was joyous and amazing and wonderful, and holy fuck he was going to come in like _a second and a half_ if Al didn’t stop doing that.

''Get off me,'' Scorpius whimpered, trying very, very hard not to kiss back. He pushed at Al who stopped immediately, looking embarrassed and mortified and murderous all at once.

''Didn’t it help?''

Tears of rage and embarrassment sprang to Scorpius’ eyes. He was _hard_, fuck it. Al’s weight was heavy against his aching cock. How he wanted to give into the awful temptation to grind himself against the boy on top of him. He couldn’t even tell if that urge was inspired by the potion, or by his twisted obsession for Al.

While he was trying not to _cry_ like a _girl_, Al evidently came to a decision, because he – fuck, fuck – began _kissing_ him again, and this time Scorpius was too weak, too ridiculous, too pained and in love and in despair, to prevent him.

And he’d just thought the words ‘in love’ about Albus Severus Potter, Merlin rot his bones, and he couldn’t un-think them – though he was trying, fuck it, as hard as he could.

But, quite honestly, it was _damned impossible_ to think yourself out of love with a boy who was pressing your lips apart and fucking your mouth with his tongue, Scorpius thought, doing his best to give as good as he was getting.

Al’s kiss was warm and sloppy and so desperate that Scorpius just wanted to _die_ from it all, and in a good way at that.

''What are you _doing_?'' he mumbled against Al’s lips.

Al’s fingers tightened so hard on his arms that it hurt. ''Anaesthetising you, you absolute wanker.''

Scorpius had just thought up a really cutting retort when Al sat up slightly, grabbing the bottom of Scorpius’ school jumper and pulling it over his head with some force.

''Fucking hell, watch my neck, you idiot,'' Scorpius said when his breath returned to him.

Al glared at him, then started on Scorpius’ buttons. ''You know, I’d just shut up if I were you. If I leave, you’ll be absolutely fucked.''

''Better than actually _having_ to be fucked by you,'' Scorpius shot back.

Al went white, and then bright red with anger. ''I hate you so much,'' he said. ''I hate, hate, hate, hate you.''

Scorpius’ insides hurt. They _hurt_ dammit, and he was crying and that was _really, really bad_, because if he were crying then Al would _know_ that what he’d just said had cut him to the fucking _bone_.

He grabbed Al by the front of his robes and yanked him towards him. Their noses collided, and their faces pressed together into a clumsy, awkward kiss, Scorpius tangling his fingers into Al’s hair so hard it had to hurt.

When Scorpius broke the kiss, pressing his nose and mouth against Al’s exposed neck and nipping at the tender skin, Al shuddered against him but made no sound. When he tentatively licked at the reddening area Al made a breathy noise that set Scorpius’ senses on fire.

''Tell me you don’t want this,'' he hissed at Al, who snapped upright and away from Scorpius, his face smeared with Scorpius’ own tears.

Revealing, as he did so, a most impressive bulge in the front of his school trousers.

''Shut up, shut up,'' Al yelled, evidently dying to storm out, but unable to do so. ''Can’t I ever get anything right with you? Why do you always treat me like I’m worse than a bit of crap on the bottom of your shoe?''

''Because you despise me,'' Scorpius yelled back, completely losing his temper. ''And you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted that I can’t fucking have.''

There was absolute silence.

Then, after a minute that felt like forever, Al said, blankly, ''what?''

''I am _not_ saying it again,'' Scorpius said. To think he’d thought that the Unicorn Incident was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. Hah!

''You… you like me?'' Al asked, looking bewildered.

Scorpius decided not to even grace that with a response. He looked away and bit his lip, wondering just how long it would take for the whole school – and then the whole world – to know.

There was a knock at the door and Al jumped, scrambling off Scorpius. For the fraction of the second that Al moved away Scorpius noticed, gloomily, that it didn’t hurt at all.

Madam Pomfrey gave them both an appraising look when she entered.

''I think I’m fixed,'' Scorpius said dully, and Al shot him a startled, almost hunted, look.

''Why don’t you move away, Mr Potter?'' Madam Pomfrey suggested.

Al did so, and Scorpius felt no different. He felt shit, sure, but no shittier than the situation warranted.

''We did some tests to discover how the new potion worked,'' Madam Pomfrey said, looking at her clipboard in a matter of fact manner. ''The unicorn hair, combined with a couple of rather poor friendship and affection spells, resulted in what we suspect is a truth potion of a kind. Once the potion is in contact with the skin, it results in a suffering that can only be alleviated by confessing the truth of one’s affections to the one that you love most. Mr Potter was not affected in a similar way because he has, to put it politely, apparently lost his affinity with unicorns and unicorn magic.''

''So it didn’t actually matter whether he was _in_ the room or not when the potion exploded on me?'' Scorpius asked, already knowing the – frankly appalling – answer.

Madam Pomfrey shot Al an interested look. ''I think not.'' She turned to her clipboard and looked thoughtful. ''You have had a trying day, no doubt, Mr Malfoy. I insist you remain in this private room until tomorrow morning at least. Bed rest will, no doubt, have you right as rain in no time at all. I’ll have some food brought up for you both.''

She left the room, closing the door behind her.

''You…'' Al said finally, slowly.

''Don’t you_ dare_ say anything,'' Scorpius said, closing his eyes.

Al launched himself at Scorpius, surprising him, hugging him so tight that his ribs hurt from the pressure.

Then – Scorpius wasn’t sure how, but he wasn’t complaining – Al’s mouth was on his, kissing and kissing and _kissing_ him until Scorpius was weak and dizzy with sheer lust and horn and, yes, an edge of terror.

The irony that his first proper kiss involved being thoroughly snogged by Al of all people, was not lost on him. Hopefully he wasn’t doing too badly. But – oh_ Merlin_ – Al was grinding against him and making breathy, delicious noises. Please, Scorpius thought, let me be as good at this as I think I am.

A knock at the door and they sprang apart - Scorpius blushing like an idiot (_fuck it_) as he caught Al’s eye. Al looked like the cat that had got the cream. Gallons and gallons of it.

A house elf entered with a covered trolley of food and then left, closing the door behind him.

A fragrant smell of roast chicken and potatoes scented the air. Al looked over at Scorpius and smiled, without a hint of embarrassment. Then he whacked him, really quite hard.

''Ow! What the hell was that for?''

''For being such an arse to me all the time! You…'' Al stopped, and looked thoughtful. ''You are planning on _stopping_ being an arse to me now, aren’t you?''

Scorpius felt himself go even redder. ''Yes.'' Then, feeling a little irritated, ''but you were an arse back, you have to admit.''

''You’re confusing me with James,'' Al said, rolling his eyes. Then he bit his lip. ''I really, really like you,'' he said and looked embarrassed. ''Do you like me, too?''

Scorpius stared at him. ''Is it really necessary for me to answer that?''

''Yes? You stole all my stuff! You never did give me back that photo album, you know.''

Scorpius laughed, and then squirmed. ''I wanted the photos of you.''

Al’s eyes widened. ''You did? What did you do with them?''

Scorpius thought about the use that he’d put some of those photos to, and wondered if he’d gone as purple as he felt.

''You didn’t!''

''Maybe.''

''Now that I’d like to see,'' Al said, his voice low and breathy.

Scorpius’ insides flipped.

Al laughed, softly, and pulled Scorpius closer, hooking a leg over him and tucking their bodies tightly together.

''By the time I’m done with you, any unicorn is going to run screaming in the opposite direction,'' Al whispered, his breath warm against Scorpius’ neck.

Scorpius would have complained about this blatant disrespect shown towards his dignity but… fuck it. He’d complain later, perhaps. Right now he was struggling to remember how to breathe, let alone think.

''But first,'' Al said, rolling off him with a cheerful – if slightly wicked – smile. ''Let’s have some dinner.''

Scorpius clenched his jaw and tried to ignore the mortifying urge to tug Al back. How had he ever thought that Al was a traitor to Slytherin? He was more evil than Voldemort himself.

~#~~#~~#~

''Oh, that was nice,'' Al said, licking his fingers and grinning over at Scorpius. ''I’m looking forward to dessert more though.''

''What’s for dessert?'' Scorpius asked with a frown. They’d eaten practically everything in sight. Eating had been the last thing on his mind, but Al’s suggestion had been a good one. With a less empty stomach the last of the weakness from the pain had dispersed.

Al smirked. ''You.''

Scorpius over-heated and wished that he had just a little more control over his body. He was supposed to be a cunning, enigmatic Slytherin, damn it, not a blushing schoolboy!

Al leaned over and kissed him. It was different to their last kiss. Gentler. Softer. Al moved with more care, his lips grazing Scorpius’ with agonising slowness. Scorpius parted his lips to allow Al entry, and their tongues met in a sweet, teasing dance.

Time passed. Minutes. Hours. Seconds. All Scorpius was aware of was his mouth – red and swollen with so much kissing – and the urgent, throbbing ache of his cock, trapped in his trousers. Fucking hell, he worried, as Al’s tongue darted out to stroke his own, was he was going to come without even being touched?

Then Scorpius found himself flat on his back on the bed, Al half-crouching, half-lying over him, one hand next to his head and the other trailing down his front, Al’s knee pressing his thighs open. When Al’s fingers grazed over the crotch of his trousers he bucked against him, desperately trying to regain the electrifying contact. His heart was hammering and he could all but _hear_ the blood racing through his body.

Al’s hand – oh fuck, his _hand_ – was now firm against the material covering Scorpius’ swollen cock, and he was rubbing the heel of his palm against it as he licked Scorpius’ tongue in rhythm.

When Al moved his hand away Scorpius moaned in protest, before freezing when he felt Al’s hand at the fly of his trousers.

''Okay?'' Al whispered, sounding nervous.

Scorpius tried to breathe. He opened his mouth but no words came out. He licked his lips and nodded.

Al fumbled with Scorpius’ trousers, yanking them down around his ankles without finesse.

When he felt a hand touch him – with only a thin barrier of cotton between that hand and his cock – he gasped, and pressed against Al.

''Open your eyes,'' Al said.

Scorpius plucked up all his courage and did so. Al was staring at him, his mouth slack with lust.

''You are so beautiful,'' Al said.

Scorpius was going to make some witty rejoinder (Why yes, I fucking _am_), when Al slid his hand under the waistband of Scorpius’ underpants and took his cock in his hand.

For the next few moments the world tightened into Al’s hand, moving up and down, Al’s mouth, nipping at the tender skin at his shoulder-blade, and the amazing, wonderful, _completely embarrassing_ pressure building up in Scorpius’ groin, making his whole body shake with need and arousal, indicating that he was going to come in the _shortest time ever known to man_.

Then Al – his breathing heavy, his face flushed – _juddered_ against Scorpius, making the most amazing noise. He _squeezed_ Scorpius’ cock and that, combined with the sheer horn that he had, apparently, just made Al come without even touching him, tipped Scorpius over the edge. He came hard, his whole body vibrating, squirting into Al’s hand.

Scorpius was panting like he’d run a race. But still, he had to know. ''Did you… did you just… you know?''

Al smiled. ''Fuck yes.'' And then he brought his hand up to his mouth – the hand _covered with Scorpius’ come_ – and licked it clean.

It was the sexiest fucking thing that Scorpius had ever seen. He was going to have a hard-on for _the rest of his life_. His cock was already stiffening again.

Al collapsed beside Scorpius and kissed him. Scorpius could taste his own come on Al’s tongue – an odd, musky taste. It should have been unpleasant. It wasn’t. It was fucking hot.

''I…'' Scorpius said when they finally broke apart. Al was running his fingers through Scorpius’ hair in a highly distracting manner, and Scorpius wondered if he’d ever again be capable of rational thought in Al’s presence.

''Yes?'' Al asked, grinning.

''Fuck,'' Scorpius said helplessly, as Al trailed a finger down his neck, making him shiver.

''Eloquent,'' Al said.

Scorpius felt an incredible urge to stick his tongue out at him, but managed to stop himself.

''You,'' Al said, placing the palm of his hand on Scorpius’ chest and pushing him back, ''are wearing far too many clothes''.

Scorpius flushed. ''So are you,'' he said. It had never before been quite so difficult to say those particular – entirely innocent sounding – words.

Al laughed and shrugged out of his school uniform until he was naked apart from his boxers, his erection straining against the thin, damp fabric. Scorpius kicked off the trousers that were still hanging round his ankles, and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. He had lost all of his natural grace and poise, and was now a clumsy oaf without motor skills.

Al batted his hands away and deftly undid the remaining buttons, sliding the shirt off Scorpius’ shoulders with care.

Scorpius was overwhelmed by a sensation that he would have described as panic, if it hadn’t been quite so… welcome. Sweet Merlin he _wanted_ this. An important part of his life had been missing all this time and, now it was here, he couldn’t help but think he was an idiot for not seeing it all the time.

''I’m gay,'' Scorpius said and felt a bit surprised. Like it was something that had only just occurred to him. He supposed that, in a bizarre way, it was.

''No – you’re kidding me?'' Al said, and grinned affectionately at him. ''Fucking hell, you’re beautiful.''

Scorpius rolled his eyes, holding in the grin that tried to escape. He ghosted his fingers over Al’s body, examining him. Al’s body was both how he imagined it would be and so much better - his skin a creamier, paler colour than expected, with faint tan lines that made him want to laugh; his body slighter, less muscled and quite as hairless as his own – apart from an intriguing treasure trail of dark hair. Scorpius’ heart began to beat faster.

''You’re—''

''Yeah, scrawny, I know,'' Al said without embarrassment. He trailed his fingers over Scorpius’ stomach with a faint expression of awe on his face. ''You’re a lot more muscled than I expected.''

''Quidditch,'' Scorpius explained, mesmerised by the sight of Al’s slim fingers moving along his skin. ''And no, you’re not.''

''Not what?''

''Scrawny. I like the way you look,'' Scorpius said, not sure why it felt so embarrassing to say. Maybe it was the fact that – _Merlin_ – Al was now hooking his fingers under the waistband of Scorpius’ underpants.

''Can I?'' Al asked.

Scorpius took a deep breath and nodded. ''Take—'' he started and then paused, his mouth inexplicably dry, ''take yours off, too''.

Al’s mouth opened and he nodded, running his tongue over his lips. He hesitated.

''What are you waiting for, a countdown?'' Scorpius laughed, rather shakily.

Al grinned and dragged Scorpius’ pants down and off, Scorpius remembering at the last moment that it might actually _help_ if he lifted his arse up, and trying not to die of horn when the fabric grazed over his cock.

Scorpius shuddered, feeling very exposed and very vulnerable. And very, very, very turned on.

Al scrambled out of his own pants, his erect cock springing free as he tugged them down, chucking them to the side. Scorpius swallowed hard, hideously aware that he had no idea what he was doing. Did he need to remind Al of this awful, mortifying fact? Was there a way of doing so that wouldn’t leave his dignity in absolute shreds?

Then Al was on top of him – bare skin on skin – sparking off every single nerve ending in his body and, fucking, fucking hell, their _cocks_ were _touching_ and Al was kissing him, fingers digging hard into his hips, and Scorpius was mad with sheer need.

Scorpius had never, ever wanted anything as much as he wanted to touch Al right now – to watch him squirm under his grasp and come, gasping, calling his name – but he couldn’t make himself reach out. What if he were completely shit at it? He’d never really been one for self-doubt, but… Well. He just couldn’t _help_ it.

Al shifted on the bed, and swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. ''How much do I have to beg for you to wank me off?''

Scorpius went scarlet. ''How do you like it?''

Al grabbed Scorpius’ hand and licked it, spitting into his palm until it was moist and slick, and guiding it down to his cock. When Scorpius wrapped his fingers around it – sliding them up and down experimentally, his stomach flipping with nerves and wonder at the feeling of the warm, intimate flesh beneath them – Al gasped, sending a direct shot to Scorpius’ ego.

Al surged against Scorpius hand, kissing Scorpius desperately. Before Scorpius could even _think_ about speed and rhythm, Al wound his fingers around Scorpius’ own, guiding his pace, _showing_ him.

Then – and oh _god_ Scorpius thought he might just die – Al stopped kissing, spat into his hand and worked it down between Scorpius’ legs.

Cool, and slick and _mindblowing_. It wasn’t new. Scorpius had wanked that way before. But that was _Al’s hand_ around his cock. Merlin. Grip tight and firm. Fingers slipping over the head of his cock. It was like _nothing_ he’d ever felt before on his own. Fucking hell, he was _naked_. Naked in bed with _Al_. _Wanking him off_.

Al was making the most _amazing_ fucking noises. Groans and tight, sharp breaths. Al’s best ever, Scorpius hoped. His own first ever. Then Al kissed him again, almost hard enough to bruise, their teeth knocking together. Scorpius kissed back ferociously, feeling a tight, warm sensation building, oh god, oh _god_.

''I’m going to—'' Al panted against Scorpius’ mouth. ''Fuck. Scorpius.''

Scorpius’ muscles clenched as Al said his name, and it was too much. He came hard, spasming against Al, rocking and pushing into Al’s fist.

''Don’t. Stop,'' Al managed.

Scorpius nuzzled against Al’s neck, slowing his hand right down.

Al was shaking, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead. ''Bastard,'' he said through gritted teeth. ''Faster. _Please_.''

Scorpius grinned against Al’s neck, but didn’t speed up.

Al was trembling and making incoherent noises, bucking his hips and trying to force Scorpius to speed up.

''Fuck,'' Al hissed through evidently gritted teeth. ''Please. Please. _Please_.''

His heart pounding, Scorpius kissed his way along Al’s jawline and pulled back, his hand working faster.

Al opened his eyes and parted his lips, breathing ragged. Scorpius realised, in a rush of arousal that made his spent cock twitch, that he was going to get to look in Al’s eyes as he made him come. Could it get any more intimate?

''Oh,'' Al said, and his face contorted and then slackened as he almost slammed his hips against Scorpius, twitching as he rode out his orgasm, his eyes fixed on Scorpius’ own.

It was the most wonderful thing that Scorpius had ever seen.

Al collapsed and, after a few seconds, his lips quirked into a smile. ''That was amazing,'' he said, pushing back his damp hair with one hand.

Scorpius felt moved to lean forward and kiss Al very thoroughly. When he’d finished, Al had a dreamy expression on his face, and Scorpius wondered if he looked equally as soppy. He didn’t think that that would be such a bad thing.

 

~#~~#~~#~

Scorpius woke up with a sense of total disorientation. The room – which was not his regular bedroom, that was for sure – was bright. Had he overslept? Then he remembered - everything that had happened the previous evening flooded back to him. He looked over to the – decidedly empty – spot on the bed next to him and felt his insides heave. He was such an _idiot_. How had he fallen for such an obvious, ridiculous scheme? Even now the Gryffindor common room would be ringing out with the sounds of people laughing at him, as Potter revealed exactly how inexperienced and no doubt awful he, Scorpius, was in bed.

Then the door to the tiny bathroom attached to the private room opened and Al emerged half-dressed, rubbing his hair with a towel.

Scorpius all but collapsed with relief.

''Morning,'' Al said, and looked a bit embarrassed. ''Okay?''

Scorpius’ heart beat faster. This was intolerably awkward. What if Al regretted what they had done? What if he’d only done it out of – ugh – sympathy, or worse, _pity_? But he couldn’t ask him such a thing. No way in hell.

Al frowned and sat down on the side of the bed, tugging the towel down from his head and twisting it between his hands. His hair stood up in adorable, ridiculous spikes. Scorpius was slightly nauseated by how much he wanted to hug Al.

''Was it… too much?'' Al asked. ''Did I… Do you…'' He looked down at the towel in his hands as if it was something really fascinating. ''I… I’d like it if you were my boyfriend. If you want.''

Scorpius swallowed hard, more torn than he’d ever been in his entire life. ''My father…'' he said, and stopped, appalled at himself. Was he really planning on putting his father’s opinion over his own happiness? But if he lost his father’s respect – his love… Scorpius bit his lip.

Al looked up at him, and smiled, but it looked forced and tight. ''I’m not going to tell anyone,'' he said. ''Even if you don’t like me that way.''

''What are you, some kind of moron?'' Scorpius snapped. ''Of course I like you. But I’m a Malfoy. Malfoy gentlemen don’t date boys. And they certainly don’t date Potters.''

Al opened his mouth as if he was going to say something angry, and then snapped it shut. He looked as if he were counting to ten. Finally, he spoke, and he sounded as if he were keeping his temper by a mere thread. ''We are not our parents.''

Scorpius didn’t quite know what to say to that. He felt miserable down to his very soul.

Then something rather wonderful happened. Al put his arms around him, pulling him in close, and just… held him. Al smelled fresh and sweet, and his body was warm and soft. Scorpius came to a decision. ''Yes.''

''Yes, what?'' Al asked.

''You know what.''

''Yes, but I’d like to hear you say it,'' Al said, grinning from ear to ear.

''Yes I will be your… boyfriend,'' Scorpius forced out, the word sounding bizarre. ''But if you tell anyone else then I’ll fill your bones with molten lead, disembowel you with a blunt teaspoon and garrotte you with your school scarf.''

Al laughed. ''All that?''

Scorpius tried to smile. ''All that. Seriously, Al. My father can’t find out.'' He snorted. ''_I’ve_ barely just found out.''

Al hugged him tight. ''You have my word.''

~#~~#~~#~

Over the next few weeks, Scorpius realised – rather disturbingly – that he’d never been quite so happy. Plenty of things should have made him irritated and angry. N.E.W.T. classes had picked up such a pace that he barely had time to think, and any free time wasn’t technically free time at all – it was revision time.

Al played the part of ''not Scorpius’ boyfriend'' with such skill and finesse that Scorpius barely saw him. They snatched kisses in empty classrooms and indulged in a couple of – more frustrating than relieving – groping sessions in the prefects’ bathroom.

Even keeping up his role as head Slytherin student was tiring. He spent more time sorting out the petty squabbles of his minions than enjoying the benefits of their respect.

He wanted Al.

~#~~#~~#~

''I want to tell some of our friends,'' Scorpius said, collaring Al on the first occasion they had their dormitory room to themselves. Being so close to him at night and unable to do anything about it was pure torture.

Al ran a hand through his messy hair and grinned. ''Okay.'' He took a step towards Scorpius, who glanced around nervously in case there were any Slytherins hiding under the beds. There was telling people and then there was _telling people_. Scorpius knew he was only ready to go so far.

Al looked hurt. So hurt that Scorpius just _had_ to step forward and kiss him, moving his hands around Al’s arse and grinding their hips together. They stumbled and came up against a wall, Scorpius shoving Al against it.

''Fuck,'' Al swore as his cock was sandwiched between their bodies. ''Stop. Someone will…''

Scorpius rubbed himself against Al, and licked a trail along Al’s ear, gently biting the fleshy lobe.

''Oh god,'' Al murmured. ''The headmistress herself could come in right now and I wouldn’t care.''

Scorpius rolled his eyes and reluctantly let Al go. ''Mood killer.''

Al laughed, straightening his robes. ''Idiot.''

''I meant it. About telling a few people''

''Really?'' Al asked, his face lighting up. ''Who can I tell?''

''Circe,'' Scorpius said, thinking hard. ''Primrose, maybe. Lily.''

''Can I tell the rest of my family?'' Al asked, after a brief pause. ''You can trust them. They won’t tell anyone.''

Scorpius frowned. ''James—''

''—will hold his tongue or feel my mother’s rage,'' Al interrupted. ''And trust me,'' he grinned, ''it’s a good rage. Worth seeing, as long as it’s not directed at you.''

Scorpius wondered if he were making a really, really big mistake. ''Okay.''

The look on Al’s face went a long way towards allaying Scorpius’ fears. And later, Al’s mouth hot and wet around Scorpius’ cock, Scorpius realised there was nothing he wouldn’t do if Al asked him. He couldn’t even bring himself to mind.

~#~~#~~#~

''Al?''

''Mmm-hmm?''

''Why haven’t we… you know?''

''Had wild, hot monkey sex?''

Scorpius whacked Al hard. ''No, you bastard!''

Al looked at him pointedly.

''Well, okay, in a way, yes.''

Al smiled at him, a very soppy look on his face, and then looked away. ''My first time was…'' He shrugged and looked serious. ''Well, I want yours to be better. I want to treat you right.''

Scorpius was overcome with embarrassment and – interestingly – a deep and almost unbearable desire to hug Al so hard that he squeaked. ''You are such a fucking Hufflepuff,'' he said, taking refuge in sarcasm.

Al laughed. ''No, I’m a total Slytherin.'' He got up, shouldering his school bag and straightening his robe. ''Come on Scorpius, we’ll be late for class.''

''How exactly are you a Slytherin?'' Scorpius asked, reluctant to get up. ''You’re practically pissing hearts and crapping candy, you’re so soppy.''

Al snorted. ''I just am.''

Then – when they entered the classroom and had to separate to go to their seats - Al whispered something in Scorpius’ ear.

It took a few seconds for it sink in, and when it had, Al was already sitting down, his back to Scorpius.

_I take care of what’s mine_.

It was adorable. And totally, _completely_ hot. Scorpius was – for some minutes – quite thankful for the Hogwarts uniform with its voluminous robes. Quite thankful indeed.

~#~~#~~#~

When Scorpius bumped into James in Hogsmeade on his way to meet Al at the Three Broomsticks, it was a surprise. Being punched was less of a surprise.

Scorpius supposed, as he hit the ground with a crash, his nose throbbing and his cheek flaring with pain, that it could have been worse. James could have hexed him with something completely vindictive and awful. He was a Gryffindor, after all.

He looked up to see James standing over him, offering a hand to help him up. Scorpius looked at it suspiciously. ''What the fuck?'' he mumbled, tasting blood.

James bent down and tugged him upright. He looked furious. When he brandished his wand Scorpius flinched, reaching into his pocket to wind his fingers tight around his own wand.

''Hold still, you arsehole,'' James muttered, ''I’m trying to remember how to do a healing spell.''

Scorpius laughed in disbelief. ''You punch me and now you want to work healing magic – badly – on me? What the fuck is wrong with you?''

James glared at him. ''You know what’s wrong with me. You!'' He waved his wand and said a few words.

Scorpius’ nose throbbed for a moment and he felt the icy flow of magic through his face. He put his hand up to his nose gingerly. It felt okay.

''Have you got a hanky? Your face is a bit… bloody,'' James asked. When Scorpius didn’t move he rolled his eyes and fished about in his pocket, before using his wand to dampen a wad of tissues.

Scorpius tried to grab the tissues to wipe the blood away himself, but James batted away his hand and started dabbing at Scorpius’ face. He wasn’t gentle, but he evidently wasn’t trying to inflict further pain.

''You’ll do. I don’t think you’ll bruise now.'' James frowned and looked irritated. ''Don’t tell Al.''

''Why shouldn’t I?''

''Do you even like him?'' James snapped, crossing his arms.

''It’s none of your business.''

''He’s my brother,'' James burst out. ''Of course it’s my business. I want him happy. I’ll even put up with _you_ if you make him happy. But if you’re just screwing around, I swear I’ll kill you.''

Scorpius felt sorry, for the first time in his life, that he was an only child. He’d love to have someone so loyal to him. ''It’s none of your business,'' he repeated stubbornly but then relented and muttered, ''But yes, I do. Very much.''

James stared at him for a moment, and then shook his head. ''I suppose if dad’s okay with it, then I can be, too.'' He visibly pulled himself together and, with a great show of reluctance, held out his hand. ''Shake?''

Scorpius did so, for Al’s sake. When he entered the pub with James, the look of happiness on Al’s face made his great sacrifice worth it.

~#~~#~~#~

After another couple of weeks, Scorpius cracked. He wrote down ten words that made his heart fucking _race_, and folded the note into a crane. Muttering a spell – a quick trick his father had shown him – he sent the note-bird fluttering over to Al’s desk.

Al grabbed it and hid it under his scrolls before the teacher could comment, but as soon as her back was turned he retrieved it. Scorpius could see the back of his neck go red.

When the note flew back to him, he was all but shaking. It wasn’t every day of the week that you sent a boy a note reading _if you don’t fuck me soon I’m going to die_, after all. He shielded the note from his neighbours and peered at it, his eyes half-closed, as if barely being able to see it would make it easier if he didn’t like the answer.

There was just one word.

_Tonight_.

~#~~#~~#~

Scorpius stood in the empty corridor – freshly showered and entirely nervous – feeling like a bit of an idiot. Where the hell was Al? Where were they going to go once he did arrive? Al had brushed against him at lunchtime and whispered the time and the location, but that still left plenty of questions unanswered.

Scorpius started at a sudden noise. There was a door opening where no door had been before. When he realised what it was, he felt a bit stupid. It was – of course - the Room of sodding Requirement. Why hadn’t they thought of that before?

''Are you coming in or what?'' Al asked, sticking his head round the door and grinning at Scorpius, before grabbing his arm and tugging him inside.

The room was small and dimly lit, dominated by an enormous, cosy looking bed.

''It’s even provided…'' Al started, and ran a hand through his hair. ''Firewhiskey,'' he concluded, although Scorpius thought that he had been going to say something else. ''Like a drop?''

Scorpius accepted the proffered glass and took a sip. The drink was warm and strong, and he had to choke down the urge to cough. A pleasant burning feeling spread down his throat and insides.

Then Al took the glass out of his hand and kissed him. It wasn’t as needy as their snatched kisses could be, but no less urgent for all that. Scorpius tried to undo the buttons of Al’s shirt while they were still kissing, but his fingers were clumsy and when he attempted to simply tug them off, they didn’t snap off as easily as he’d hoped.

Al pulled away, tugging at Scorpius’ own buttons and giving him space to see what he was doing. Then, when they were both shirtless, Al shoved Scorpius hard against the wall, fumbling with Scorpius’ flies.

''You have got some serious making up to do,'' Al breathed against Scorpius’ neck. Scorpius bucked when Al pushed one hand inside his underpants, wrapping his fingers around Scorpius’ cock and gripping it hard. He tried to make Al move, to push his hardness in and out of Al’s fist, but Al ground him hard against the wall. ''Have you any idea what you did to me with that note?''

Scorpius tried to engage his brain to form words. ''I…''

''It was all I could do to stop myself from taking you right there, in the classroom,'' Al continued, and ran a thumb over the head of Scorpius’ cock, smearing it with the drops of pre-cum that spurted from it.

Scorpius bit back a curse. ''What if…'' he started, ''what if _I_ want to take _you_?''

Al paused. ''I’d be okay with that,'' he said, voice low but steady. ''Do you want to?''

Scorpius thought about pushing his cock inside Al, and nearly came on the spot. ''Fuck, yes,'' he gasped. ''But I haven’t… I don’t…''

Al stepped away from him, yanking Scorpius’ trousers and pants down and shrugging out of his own quickly, almost falling over as he stepped out of them. He smiled and tugged Scorpius down onto the bed, kissing and kissing him. ''I’ll take care of you.''

That should, Scorpius thought dazedly, have felt patronising, but it was so, so soothing. The knot of fear in his stomach that he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge unwound.

Al seemed determined to explore every inch of Scorpius’ body as he spread him out on the bed, kissing and licking his way across his chest, down his sides, up his inner thighs. Scorpius’ cock leaked and twitched as Al kissed and licked him in the most unexpectedly erotic places: the inside of his elbow, the hollow at the base of his neck, the top of his hip. Al avoided touching Scorpius’ cock and, when Scorpius – in absolute frustration and arousal – attempted to touch himself, Al pinned down his wrists to prevent him.

''Okay?'' Al murmured after what felt like endless minutes of torture-bliss. He released Scorpius’ wrists and leaned over to the bedside table, picking up and opening a jar.

''Yes,'' Scorpius managed to get out eventually, through the electric buzz of his nerves, ''Please.''

Al scooped out a quantity of lube from the jar and coated Scorpius’ cock with it. Scorpius hissed as he did so, fingers convulsively clutching the bedsheets. The touch, the cool, the wet… he wanted it _so much_.

He almost complained when Al let go, sitting up on his knees, but then he saw what Al was actually doing – slicking up a finger and reaching behind himself.

Al’s face lips parted as he moved his hand, evidently encouraged by the expression of sheer horn that Scorpius knew must be on his face.

Scorpius wanted – _needed_ – to touch Al. Watching him finger-fuck himself like that was… _indescribable_. He raised himself up onto one elbow, scooped up some lube and spread it over Al’s erect cock. Al shivered and made a keening noise, leaning into Scorpius’ touch. He reached forward, lubing up two fingers and pressing them back inside himself.

''Merlin,'' Scorpius said. ''Please, Al. I need…''

Al bit his lip and crawled over Scorpius, hand snaking down to stroke Scorpius’ cock.

''Ready?'' Al whispered.

Scorpius nodded and Al positioned himself over Scorpius’ cock, using his hand to guide it towards his entrance.

Al bent down and kissed Scorpius deeply and, as he did so, pushed down on Scorpius’ aching, swollen erection. Gentle rocking movements that allowed Scorpius’ cock to slide all the way inside.

It felt… Scorpius had no words to describe how it felt. Al’s arse was so warm and fucking tight around him. It was _unbelievable_.

''You okay?'' Al mumbled, his heart beating double-time against Scorpius’ chest, Al’s hard, lube-coated cock pressed between them, making Scorpius’ stomach damp.

''More than,'' Scorpius panted, reaching up to push Al’s hair out of his eyes. ''Move, please.''

Al grinned shakily and did as commanded, moving his hips up and down in a slow, insistent rhythm.

''Oh Merlin.'' Scorpius’ whole body _throbbed_. His orgasm starting to build, tugging at his groin and tingling through his stomach.

Then Al, the bastard, stopped moving, bending forward to capture Scorpius’ mouth in a soft kiss. Scorpius tried to rock his hips, to pound into Al’s arse, but Al was heavy against him and Scorpius couldn’t move.

After several wonderful, frustrating minutes of kissing, Al began to move again, a little faster this time, allowing Scorpius’ hips to guide the pace.

''So. Close,'' Scorpius groaned and Al – fucking, fucking _hell_ – stopped again, slamming Scorpius’ body into the mattress and pinning him down.

''Al,'' Scorpius said, not caring if he sounded as needy as he felt. ''Please. Please, please, please, please, please.''

''Pardon?''

Scorpius let out a breath that was almost a sob of despair. ''You know I’m stronger than you,'' he said speculatively, ''I could just… Oh, please, Al, _please_.''

Al grinned and kissed the tip of his nose. ''Go on then. Have your wicked way with me.'' He scrambled off Scorpius, and tugged him into a sitting position before getting on all fours, his arse in the air.

Scorpius bit his lip and tried not to come on the spot at the sheer sight of Al, legs spread, his balls raised and his cock hard and red.

He gripped Al’s sides and pressed his cock against Al’s arsehole. It slid in with only a small amount of resistance, and Scorpius nearly died from the sight of his own penis sliding into Al. It was, he thought, the best view _ever_.

Al balanced himself on one hand, reaching down with the other to jerk himself off.

''Fast,'' Al said and Scorpius did as ordered, pressing himself into Al with fast, hard strokes. Al was making such _noises_ and pushing back against Scorpius, his wrist moving faster and faster.

''Scorpius. Fuck. Going to come. Going to come,'' Al stammered, before his whole body tensed, tightening around Scorpius’ cock and he came hard, rocking with force against Scorpius.

Too much, Scorpius thought. The _tightness_ and the _view_ and the absolutely _fucking amazing_ feelings running through him, was just too much. He came so fucking fiercely that his legs turned to jelly, and he collapsed on top of Al, sending them both crashing onto the mattress.

For a few moments Scorpius just lay there, sure he was crushing Al but completely unable to move. Then he got a grip on himself and rolled off, tugging Al over and into his arms.

Al smiled at him, looking slightly nervous, and opened his mouth.

''Don’t you dare ask me if I’m okay,'' Scorpius said, feeling as if he could never move again, and not wanting to.

Al’s lips twitched. ''Are you okay?''

Scorpius laughed, and whacked him gently. ''Fucking fantastic, thanks for asking.'' He paused. ''You?''

Al beamed at him. ''Totally happy. How do you feel?''

Scorpius thought about that. ''Different, I suppose. Like I could scare a million unicorns,'' he said with a grin, and then licked his lips, a better thought occurring to him. ''Can we do it again, please?''

Al laughed, rolling half on top of him and kissing him, which, Scorpius thought rather smugly, counted as a most definite yes.

  
**10.** _Father,_

_I would like to introduce you to Albus Potter. May he come and stay with us for a few days when school has ended?_

_Scorpius._

_  
Scorpius,_

_I shall expect you both on Saturday._

_D. Malfoy_

  
The Malfoy family peacocks, usually vicious little bastards, seemed to approve of Al. They flocked around him where he lay, a warm bright mound in the midst of so much dazzling white, as he laughed and offered the albino creatures handfuls of torn up grass.

When Scorpius moved towards Al they scattered, wary of the boy who’d kicked them a few too many times for comfort. Al looked up and smiled. ''Oh, good, you got them.''

''Your powers of deduction never fail to amaze me,'' Scorpius snorted as Al sat up, pushing back his messy hair and grabbing the drawing pad and pencils from Scorpius’ hand.

''You are _so_ hilarious.'' Al tugged Scorpius down in front of him. ''Now, sit still.''

Scorpius shot a very quick look in the direction of his father, who was sitting on the grass a little distance away, powering his way through a stack of paperwork.

Al pulled at the sleeve of Scorpius’ robe. ''Oi. Attention, please. The master artist is at work.''

For a while there was a comfortable silence, filled only with the sounds of the regular, quiet activity of insects and birds on a warm summer’s day, and the gentle scritch-scratch of pencil on paper.

Scorpius wasn’t sure whether being drawn was pleasant or an awful torture. Al kept _looking_ at him and grinning. Scorpius was dying to pin him down and tickle some respect into him, but he couldn’t, not with his father _right there_.

After some time, Scorpius felt moved to make some personal remark, just to get a glimpse of the picture Al was drawing of him. ''You have grass in your hair,'' he said. He meant to sound supercilious, but it dawned on him that he probably just sounded, ugh, _tender_ of all things.

Al smiled and put the pad down at an angle that was obviously meant to allow Scorpius to see his art. He ran his fingers through his hair, and a tangle of blades of grass tumbled free and danced their way down to the ground in the light breeze. ''You know you love it.''

''Oh, so _that’s_ why I turned your hair green that time at school,'' Scorpius said, rolling his eyes. ''My secret, kinky yearning for a man-lawn combination.''

''Don’t you just know it,'' Al agreed, his lips quirking. ''So, what do you think of my picture?''

Scorpius looked down at the mostly complete portrait of himself, and laughed. ''What can I bribe you with to burn that?''

Al plastered a mock hurt expression on his face. ''You don’t like it? I think it’ll look lovely on your bedroom wall. I have a permanent sticking charm in readiness.''

Scorpius groaned. ''_Seriously_.''

''It does look a bit like a monkey, doesn’t it?'' Al said, scrutinising the picture, his head tilted to one side. ''I blame the model, personally.''

Scorpius leaned forward to grab the pad, but Al snatched it away. ''I’ll rip it up,'' he said in a low, conspiratorial voice, ''if you give me a kiss.''

''You know,'' Scorpius whispered, rolling his eyes. ''I was pretty much planning on doing that later anyway.''

Al bit his lip. ''Right now.''

''Oh,'' Scorpius said, flinching. ''My father’s right th…'' He trailed off, realising that that was probably the point.

''My family all know,'' Al said quietly. ''And I’m certain your dad suspects, even though you haven’t said anything to him.''

''I…'' Scorpius looked down at his hands and wished the ground would swallow him up.

''I don’t want to upset you,'' Al said, sounding a little hopeless. ''I’m sorry, you don’t have to.''

Scorpius suddenly noticed that the drawing wasn’t the only thing on the page that Al was clutching. He reached over and took the picture from Al’s hands. Al didn’t resist, but he clasped his empty fingers together and his posture stiffened.

There, just under the drawing, almost hidden by scrawls and random scribbles, were six words. _Scorpius Malfoy, the boy I love_.

Scorpius hung on to the pad so tightly that his fingers hurt. It seemed impossible to look up, to move at all. He was overwhelmed by the aching _brilliance_ of the words on the page in front of him.

Looking into Al’s eyes took all the courage he possessed, which didn’t leave nearly enough for the thing he was about to do – but he did it anyway. He dropped the pad, leaned over, and kissed Al Potter. On the mouth. In. Front. Of. His. Father. It was the most terrifying moment of his _entire life_. N.E.W.T.s had been absolute child’s play compared to this.

When he sat back, Al’s face was absolutely glowing with happiness, and Scorpius couldn’t help but smile back, despite the sheer terror that was running through him. Had his father even seen what had just happened? He forced himself to turn his head, fear pooling in his stomach.

His father was staring at him, his expression unreadable. _Shit_, Scorpius thought. He’s going to _disown_ me for this. Then, to his absolute wonderment, surprise and inexpressible fucking relief, his father… smiled at him, ever so slightly. It was evidently a struggle, but he did it. Just enough to count. And nodded his head, as if to say _I understand_. Then he picked up his quill once more and continued working through his papers - as if Scorpius’ life hadn’t just been hanging in the balance.

When Scorpius turned back to Al he was lying back on the grass, laughing, a peacock pecking at the grass in his outstretched hand.

This, Scorpius thought as he watched, feeling rather dazed at his absolute good fortune in all things, must be the very definition of happiness indeed.


End file.
